Page 81 of To Love And To Cherish
Had he not, once or twice, imagined a spark of affection in her lovely eyes as she watched him from across the room? A moment of warmth, perhaps of hope? He had clung to those fragments.
And now he must wait.
He would not see her again for a week, when at last he would learn whether the greatest wish of his life would be granted or denied forever.
Chapter 41: Betrothed
To Elizabeth’s great relief, she was not obliged to spend the week in hiding to avoid Adam Frazier’s attentions. He was, as ever, kind and gentlemanly, but she could not, would not, encourage his affections now. Knowing Mr. Darcy loved her, that he had offered for her, changed everything.
Had he remained in England, she might very well have accepted Adam. He was amiable and sincere; she would have been happy as his wife. But Mr. Darcy was not only the man she had dreamt of since girlhood, he was now a man who wished to marry her. It altered the course of her heart and conscience. No longer could she permit any man other than Fitzwilliam to pay his addresses to her.
When Mr. Darcy departed for Ellan Hall under the pretext of attending to estate matters, she was relieved, for the coveted time to reflect that his absence afforded her. Lucas and Adam accompanied him to make arrangements for improvements, new stables, requisite to a horse breeder, and a door joining the master’s and mistress’s apartments, and a full renovation of the kitchens.
The week at Ellan Hall had passed in a haze of distraction and suppressed hope. Though he had kept himself occupied, meeting with the steward, inspecting the stables with Lucas, reviewing household accounts, and overseeing repairs, as stipulated in the sales contract, Darcy’s thoughts remained with Elizabeth. The uncertainty gnawed at him. He had asked her to be his wife and received no answer. That she might refuse him was a possibility he could not allow himself to dwell on, and yet it haunted him all the same.
They returned to Castle Roy on a warm afternoon, the sky blue with the summer sun. Darcy rode ahead of the carriage, eager to reach the house and learn his fate. As soon as they arrived, he bathed and dressed, more restless than refreshed, and descended to the drawing room just as the footman announced dinner was delayed by fifteen minutes.
The sound of music greeted him. Miss Trent was at the pianoforte, and Elizabeth was singing.
Darcy halted at the threshold.
She stood by the instrument, her eyes fixed on some distant thought, her voice soft but steady. Every note pierced him, sweet and sharp. Adam Frazier, already in the room, stood watching her with undisguised admiration. Darcy felt his heart constrict.
If she chose Adam…
He could not finish the thought. He turned abruptly and crossed the room to the sideboard, poured himself a generous measure of brandy, and downed half of it at once.
Adam approached, holding a glass of his own. He gestured toward a pair of chairs near the fireplace and said quietly, “Darcy, from the looks of it, you and Miss Bennet share a history. Am I correct?”
Darcy studied the man a moment. There was no accusation in his voice, only a calm desire for understanding. He nodded and sat.
“We were friends when she was still quite young,” he said slowly. “I had no designs then. My thoughts were fixed upon my Grand Tour and, later, military service. But Elizabeth was an extraordinary girl, even then. Lively, quick-witted, and kind. She had a way of looking at me.”
He broke off, shaking his head. “Her eyes speak volumes. I knew she admired me, though she never said so.”
Adam said nothing, merely listened.
“I left,” Darcy continued. “She was too young, and I was too full of myself. Then, some months ago, we met again in Hertfordshire. I insulted her publicly at a local assembly, and she returned the favor with interest. I deserved it. But from that moment on, she was in my thoughts. I could not look away. And yet, I did nothing. I was too proud. She left, and I knew she did not intend to return.”
He sighed and looked into the fire. “So I followed her here. I proposed marriage last week, but she did not answer me. She said she needed time.”
Darcy turned to Adam and met his gaze. “And so I wait, wait to learn if she will choose you or me.”
Adam’s brow lifted slightly. “She loves you.”
Darcy gave a faint, mirthless smile. “She gave me a token six years ago. A fine wooden box filled with bottles of medicinal extracts. I carried it with me through five years on the continent. She wrote out a journal that detailed each herb and its uses. She wrote an inscription on the inside cover. I never meant to be faithful, but I was. No woman ever held my attention as she does. She has had me in her thrall all these years, and I did not even know it until a few weeks ago.”
He finished his glass and added, “That is where we stand, Frazier. I am at her mercy.”
Adam was silent for a long moment. Then he said, with a tone of quiet resignation, “It seems I have entered this drama too late. Ifyou had not come, she would have been mine. But you did come, and you claimed her.”
“I am sorry,” Darcy said. “Had I not been so blind, so proud, she would never have left Longbourn. We might have been married by now. You would never have been drawn into this.”
Adam raised his glass in a half-toast. “Do not apologize. It has been my privilege to know and to love Miss Bennet. When I marry, it will be to a woman like her, or not at all. She has become the measure by which I shall judge all others.”
A footman entered at that moment and bowed. “Dinner is served.”
The gentlemen rose, and together they crossed the room to join the others. Elizabeth had returned to her seat, her gaze low, her expression unreadable. Darcy could not take his eyes from her.
